The Mourning Dove

The call of the sad bird’s allure,

Heard by some, but not by all.

The call of the Mourning Dove, so pure,

Heard by those bound to fall.

 

The room was filled with ashes,

The ashes of their love.

The world around them crashes,

As calls sound from the heavens above.

Calls from angels, gods, and spirits,

Full of pain and despair.

Hearts around the world can feel it,

Pain of which nothing can compare.

 

Her heart still beats,

As his begins to stop.

Her tears run down in sheets,

As his head slowly drops.

Her hands are stained with red,

As his body is as well.

Her being fills with dread,

As his body becomes a shell.

 

Archangels cry, as the gods mourn,

And the devils, as well, feel the pain.

The bond between the two torn,

Causing grief in every domain.

No being in the world escapes the feel,

The feel of star-crossed lovers ripped apart.

The pain of which no one will ever heal,

And no one can ever impart.

 

The girl’s heart breaks,

And it’s not long now.

The world begins to shake,

As people begin to bow.

Bow down from the anguish,

Anguish from the girl.

The girl who used to lavish,

In the love that set her awhirl.

 

The girl whose heart was broken,

By the death of her only love.

The animal inside the girl awoken,

By the Call of the Mourning Dove.